


It is so on.

by dead_not_sleeping_413



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Dream Bubbles, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-cest, this is only the first half it will get dirtier, vantacest - Freeform, vantascest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dead_not_sleeping_413/pseuds/dead_not_sleeping_413
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CG: IF I HATE MYSELF SO MUCH WHY DONT I HATE MARRY MYSELF???<br/>Yeah, you never thought you’d have to make good on something like *that.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	It is so on.

It started off as a pretty normal day, you guess. As normal as these fucked up dream bubbles could get anyways. You were wandering around your old hive, the one from before the game happened. Then you ran into him. That good for nothing, shit for a pan, nook licking bulge sucking idiot, your very own smug, self righteous “future” self. Other Karkat. A doomed timeline that went past yours. 

God do you hate him. His smirk, his blank eyes that you just know are looking at you like you’re an idiot, his scars from sickle practice, his crooked scent processor from fucking tripping, god, not even a FIGHT gave him that, his, his, his EVERYTHING. He is the epitome of all you despise. Which is, you guess, YOU. That is so not fair. And it makes you hate him even more. And the bastard KNOWS it, GOD, he just GETS YOUR GOAT on SO MANY LEVELS, there isn’t even enough words to DESCRIBE IT. HE JUST MAKES YOU WANT TO LEAVE CAPS LOCK ON IN YOUR OWN THINK PAN. He is so INFURIATING. 

And he makes you so turned on.

And you hate him so much for that, too.

You feel like some sort of sick-- thing. Which you guess you are. Figures the fucking mutant would be his own kismesis. To think that your standards are set so askew that they only apply to you.

You sit across from Other Karkat in your respite block. He’s lounging in some concupiscent couch he invented in the dream space, all paint-me-like-one-of-your-french-girls, all sanded down edges pretending to be sharp, all fucking smug, like he knows what you’re thinking. He probably does. He was you. Is you. You would’ve been him. Dammit this is confusing.

“You enjoying the view nookstain?” he asks, stretching to pull out every muscle like it makes him look attractive (which it kind of does but you won’t admit that, will you?) You’re pretty sure he’s trying way too hard. You proceed to tell him that. With a few more expletives included.

“I’m not, you’re just easily flustered. I would know, I was you. Am you. Or, you would’ve been me- Dammit this is confusing, that was going to sound fucking awesome and this god damn dream expanse had to go and be all convo-fucking-luted ARGHH.” He sits up, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t worry, that didn’t make a lick of sense anyways. I would know, you were-me-are-me-I-would’ve-been-you. Great. Thanks for pointing that out, Captain-Of-The-Oh-So-Fucking-Obvious. Proceed now to tell me exactly what I am thinking with your magic “future” powers.”  
“Wow you know what THAT didn’t make any sense. Do you need me to shut you up or will your embarrassment over every single word that spews from your protein chute drown you?” You growl, and Other Karkat sneers. “I take that as a yes. This was my respite block too, I know where everything is in here.” You are suddenly very confused. This emotion passes across your face for a moment, then your anger is back in action, growling furiously at your “future” self.

“What the fuck does that mean, bulgelicker?” He just laughs and pulls a belt from your drawer.

“That that’s exactly what I’ll be. You won’t be doing much licking with this in your mouth.”

You are still very confused. You refuse to acknowledge the implications of what that means. Your body does not however, and a warmth spreads down... Low. You completely know what that means, and your body enjoys the thought. Your secret fantasies from the dead of day play through your head. Rough makeouts until your lips bleed. Ropes tying you to the bed. Another Karkat between your legs, making you scream- There’s a reason you put these thought deep down in the trash. They’re useless. And wrong. And stupid. And- and-

“You’re dead, what have you got to lose?” Other Karkat asks. You hadn’t realised how close he had gotten to you. He was nearly straddling you in your chair, head tilted, eyebrow raised and scowling. He must have seen your dumbfounded expression and continued.

“You’re dead, fuckface, you don’t have to worry about anything. We don’t have to see each other again, no one’s here to care, and we can finally act on all these pent up emotions and hormones we’ve been storing. I’ve played the I’m-sick-minded-this-is-horrible game for too long. I give up. Now you’re either going to join me, or your hate is going to be a lot less platonic, and a lot more horrified.”

You stare dumbfounded for about two seconds longer - two seconds too long - before you’re pulling him into your lap, mashing your mouths together. And he tastes just like you, and nothing at all the same, and he feels familiar but the angles are all wrong and flipped and his tongue is in your mouth and, oh, you want this to be a dream and, oh, you want this to be real. It IS real, there is a real tongue forcing it’s way into your mouth, real blunt as fuck teeth tearing at your lips, real hands slipping up your shirt-

And it’s a bit TOO real, you’re freaking out, oh my god, how do you even KISS, why do his hands feel so good, oh my GOD this is YOU that you’re touching, you’re freaking out, you’re honest to god freaking out and how do you breathe and what is air and you’re pulling away from him and gasping for breath and you’re hearing something and, oh, it’s you saying “stop stop OH MY GOD STOP HANDS OFF” and you feel like you really miss his hands - YOUR hands oh my god he’s YOU - but you’re still freaking out.

Other Karkat is scowling at you, but at least he pulled away. “What the fuck was that?” he asks. He sounds like he’s pretending to be angry. He sounds a little more concerned than angry. You sigh and flop your head back and mentally kick yourself for being the worst to ever walk this universe.

“Nothing nothing it was NOTHING. Just. Ugh. You’re me.” Oh wow that sounded awful. A+ Karkat you get the award for being a world class douchenozzle. The empress will hand you the medal herself. Via culling fork.

“Yes. We’ve been over this Captain-Of-The-Oh-So-Fucking-Obvious. We’ve also been over that it doesn’t matter and you’re dead so you can do what you want. I know you hate me. And it isn’t platonic. At least wasn’t platonic... Oh my god don’t tell me it’s platonic now, isn’t it? FUCK I’m an idiot, I’ll just- go, I guess.” Other Karkat starts climbing off your lap, nervously snapping the belt he has in his hands.

“Wait! It- it isn’t platonic, okay, just- Ugh, you’d think I’d be more accustomed to the idea than you but I’ve been in denial so long. Please. Just give me another chance.” Wow. Way to beg. Go you. You sound extremely stupid. He just sighs and puts on a smirk.

“Then let’s try this again. We’ll go slow, for the mentally challenged past people. Then we will go normal fucking speed for the future people and the past people who get used to a kismesistude instead of being wigglers with a fondness for wimping out of everything that isn’t a romcom-esq scripted romance where everyone knows their lines. Then I’m going to fuck you hard into the concupiscent couch and we are going to go the speed I want, and you are going to learn fast and scream for me. Sound good?” His smirk is much more real now.

You felt a little sceptical at first, but after that rant got your blood boiling a little more, you feel that little more confident. Yeah. You could do this. You’re dead. There’s nothing left to lose. No consequences. He’s not going to freak out about your blood (or genetic material) colour, he knows all of your sensitive spots and you his, he hates you enough spades ways not to break you. You’re good. It’s not like you’re going to die. Even if you could again.

So you suck it up, slap on a sneer, and rattle off an answer back.

“Who says I have to be the one screaming?”

It is so on.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm pretty sure I'd like to continue this but I want opinions on that as well. Should I?


End file.
